Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter NOR any of his friends NEITHER any of his enemies. It's hard to admit, but when I'm done with them all, I have to return them to Joanne K. Rowling in an original wrapping and unharmed.
I make no money, I mean no harm.
Just Tell It All
It was over.
She didn't feel very brave, although almost everybody called her a brave girl. She didn't feel victourious, either, although she did manage a victory... not just by herself, but people tended to oversee that bit. She felt just tired.
Through a gap in curtains the moonlight fell in the dark room. She could see one chair, a part of a table, a pair of shoes and black robes on the floor. She didn't bother with tiding up, just took off her own clothes and slid under the duvet. Resting aching back on the solid surface (did it really hurt so much or was it just tiredness?), she reached for a still body beside her.
How many times did she watch his face, his frown, his dark, cold eyes... and it still wasn't enough for her. He was fast asleep and he would sleep for many more hours, before her charm would let him wake up. She hesitated; no circumstances can excuse sneaking into a man's bed without him even knowing, but she was ready to bear the consequences. And if she was already breaking rules, one more step can't hurt so much.
Carefully, she embraced the sleeping man, rested his head on her shoulder, laid her face against his hair and closed her eyes.
He was sitting under a spreading tree, an opened book on his knees. He didn't read, though; he was watching a beautiful girl, who walked towards him. The most beautiful girl in the world, he had to add. She stopped at the border of the tree's shadow and he stood up. He smiled at her.
But the girl wasn't smiling.
Four boys joined the girl and he started to feel uncomfortably. One of the strangers took the girl's hand... and he knew what she was going to tell him.
Boys' faces turned ugly in his eyes, as they began laughing at him. He couldn't stand the laughter, neither could he escape it. There was only one way, one dark, terrible way, that led straight to the hell... and he took it.
She startled to soft moans of discomfort. Few seconds to realise where, when and why she was; then she held him tight.
"Severus?" It was the first time she called him his first name and she wondered whether he would kill her for that.
He just woke up. It was dawning outside and in the dim light she could see his eyes wide open.
"A bad dream?" she asked softly. He nodded and relaxed in her arms.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
"Why not?"
"Because I... you..." He found it hard to tell. "How did we get here, anyway? I thought he was going to kill me."
Pleased by the fact his brain was still working, she considered possible answers. Could she tell him the truth? That Voldemort did kill him - or, to be precise, made his heart stop beating - just before he was killed himself? Was she ready to explain a wizard all about resuscitation, heart massage and all the stuff... including probably blood circulation. No magic involved. Too complicated at the time.
"He didn't. And I asked first." He grunted something incoherent. "Just tell me," she whispered. And he, to his own surprise, told her. How miserably he felt about himself. How he had hated himself, what he had been doing, everything and everybody. And how he had liked it, too, and how he had hated himself even more afterwards.
He told her about everybody he had killed, or helped to kill, or hurt. It was hard to begin, but once he made himself talk, he couldn't stop the stream of words, fears, ghosts, dreams, shadows and hopes, all mixed together. And she was listening, quietly, without questions. Just listening.
"I've done so many terrible things," he finished. "I have to pay for them." She moved at last, but she wasn't leaving. Instead, she touched his cheeks. They were wet with tears. Her hand dropped on his chest.
She thought of all the things that were just to come. People wouldn't understand half of this. Winning the war seemed much easier than living in the peace afterwards. She could just imagine - and she had a good imagination - how terribly they would react. People who had never had to fight, to stand against the evil, people who feared Voldemort without knowing exactly who they feared and why. People who were weak... and weak people usually hated strong people.
Turning her mind back to past, she tried to see through the mayhem he had just laid before her. She believed it to be important to understand but she couldn't reach anything precise. She felt how grave and monstrous it was, though, and trusting her feelings, she made her decision.
"You've paid enough," she said. "Now go back to sleep."
It was surprisingly easy for him to obey. While the new day was dawning behind black curtains, he drifted back to his dream.
He watched the beautiful girl leaving with four laughing boys. But he wasn't alone this time. A small, warm hand touched his. Turning around, he got lost in a pair of deep, inviting and loving eyes.
In distance, he could hear a door slammed.
She was watching his face, as he fell asleep again. He tensed, as the nightmare came back, but before she could wake him up, the tension was gone. In the dirty light of another winter day, she was granted a rare and wonderful sight.
Severus Snape's face was lit by a soft, unbelievably charming smile.